


Word-Born Cold

by PunsBulletsAndPointyThings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, GFY, Gen, Ghost!Qui-Gon, M/M, Mortis Arc, One-sided pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/pseuds/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Obi-Wan,"<br/>It is, without a doubt, the last voice Obi-Wan expect to hear, in a cave on a planet that does not make sense.<br/>In fact, it is a voice he never expected to hear again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word-Born Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching the Mortis arc and suddenly remember that I have so many feeling about this scene!!!  
> Unbeta'ed

“Obi-Wan, have you done as I asked? Have you trained the boy?”  
  
The voice is so unexpected, so out of place, here in this cave, wherever in the galaxy that they are, that Obi-Wan reacts on instinct. Head snapping around towards the voice’s source, he startles to his feet, recoiling back from the impossible figure that had not been there thirty seconds earlier, his lightsaber hissing softly as it flares to life.  
  
Ahsoka is still asleep on the other side of the cave, curled up against an earthen ledge, but Obi-Wan only has eyes for the glowing form of a man before him.  
  
“Master Qui-Gon?” His heartbeat picks ups in his chest, stuttering over a few beats at the familiar face. In this ghostly, translucent form, his master has not aged a moment from when Obi-Wan held him in his arms on Naboo. He flinches away from that memory, for time has made it no easier to think of, especially now. Despite himself, Obi-Wan’s eyes flick down, though his saber never wavers, to the ghost’s abdomen. There is nothing; no scarring, no burnt fabric and gaping hole from where the Sith Maul’s lightsaber pierced through, ending his life. That brings a wave of relief washing over Obi-Wan as he lets out a breath he had not realized he was holding. He is not quite sure what he would have done if there had been a mark of some sort, but now is not the time to dwell on things that are not.  
  
“How are you here?” His mind rails against the facts before his eyes; this is impossible. Qui-Gon Jinn is dead and one with Force. This should be impossible! But nevertheless, there Qui-Gon stands, as tall and imposing as he ever was, the firelight flickering through him.  
  
“I am here because you are here.” The response is almost gentle, Qui-Gon’s voice softening towards the end of his phrase. Obi-Wan is suddenly a padawan again, listening to a gentle, if a little chastising lecture after a particularly foolish question. For a moment, it is a struggle to breathe.  
  
“I…I don’t understand,” ‘Why only now? Have you been watching?’ “What is this place?”  
  
In life, Qui-Gon had always moved with a grace that was breath-taking, especially for a man his size. He had moved as though he were in control of every movement of every muscle, down to the slightest twitch, resulting in a fluid, almost dancing stride that Obi-Wan had never quite gotten the hang of. That has not changed, even in this form, Qui-Gon’s steps are steady and smooth. Just one of many little things Obi-Wan suddenly realizes he had forgotten about the older man, and that thought sends a jolt of regret running through him.  
  
His master has moved around him, one arm folded behind his back, and stops to let his eyes linger on one of the large outcroppings of glowing, blue-white crystals that fill the cave, illuminating it with a soft, unwavering light.  
  
“Unlike any other; a conduit through which the entire Force of the universe flows.” His words are certain, and Obi-Wan can pick out none of the old tells, the signs that told him his Master was using flowery words to work around the fact that he was unsure or at a loss. There is something else in Qui-Gon’s tone, something Obi-Wan can’t quite name, but it brings the memory-sense of being a padawan back in full force, his shoulders slumping and some of his tension falling away, despite himself.  
  
“Are we in danger?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounds different, younger.  
  
Qui-Gon does not turn from the crystals. “This planet is both an amplifier and a magnet,” he says, “Three are here, who seek Skywalker. They, like me, believe him to be the Chosen One.”  
  
Ah. Of course. Obi-Wan bites back the urge to sigh, ducking his head for a moment, before powering down his lightsaber and returning it to his belt.  
  
Unbidden, the memory of their argument, one of their last conversations, before they returned to Naboo, floats to the surface of his mind.  
  
_“It is not disrespect, Master, it is the truth.”_  
_“From your point of view.”_  
_“The boy in dangerous; they all sense it. Why can’t you?”_  
  
“You were right.” He looks back up. ‘I was wrong. Forgive me, Master.’ “The Force within him is stronger than any known Jedi.” Qui-Gon has still not turned, and Obi-Wan desperately wishes he would. He wants to see the other man’s face, wants to be able to gauge his emotions. He cannot feel Qui-Gon in the Force, not as he had once been able to. No training bond spans the gap between them, and even as he continues to speak, Obi-Wan finds he cannot quite shake the feeling of talking to a statue of stone.  
  
“I’ve trained him as well as I could but,” But he was no Qui-Gon Jinn. It had never been Obi-Wan’s plan to take a padawan so soon. Few knights did so, until after their first year knighted. More than once, he had wondered if it would not have been better for Master Yoda, or even Master Windu, or someone else, someone older, wiser, someone who was not twenty-five, newly knighted, and grieving, to train Anakin, to help guide him down the path of the Jedi far better than Obi-Wan ever could. “He is still willful, and balance eludes him.”  
  
‘I have kept my promise, Master, but was it enough? Was I enough?’  
  
“If he is the Chosen One, you will discover it here.”  
  
That is hardly what Obi-Wan wants to hear, and his temper sparks, “And if not?”  
  
Finally, finally, Qui-Gon turns, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze. His heart aches; Qui-Gon’s eyes are darker than he remembers, standing out against the washed out colours of his skin, hair, and clothes. It is a striking sight, and Obi-Wan drinks it in.  
  
“Then you must realize that with his power, this is a very dangerous place for him to be.” Qui-Gon’s words ring with a foreboding that buzzes in Obi-Wan’s very bones, like electricity trapped under his skin. Thunder rolls as the storm outside the cave grows worse, and Obi-Wan brings a hand up to rub his chin, a habit to disguise nerves or discomfort.  
  
Suddenly, the cave grows darker, and there is the distinct feeling of something fading away in the Force. Obi-Wan’s head snaps back up, panic building in his throat, but Qui-Gon is already gone, vanishing as silently as he appeared. Obi-Wan turns, taking in the rest of the cave. It is a vain hope. Only Ahsoka remains with him, still sleeping soundly.  
  
Something cold and bitter sinks heavily to the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach, and he wraps his arms around himself against the chill. A spark of the old anger that had mingled with his grief, in the year following Naboo, flares up, and he sits down, leaning against a stone outcrop. Over a decade it has been, since he last heard Qui-Gon’s voice, and the information he has given Obi-Wan, no matter how cryptic, could prove to be vital for their survival in this place. Obi-Wan knows this, knows he should be thankful, but…  
  
_Qui-Gon is dying. Obi-Wan can feel it, and the thought rings with certainty in the Force. There are tears streaming down Obi-Wan’s face, as he holds Qui-Gon in his arms, as gently as he can manage. The older man’s breathing is ragged and every intake of air sounds painful._  
_“Master. Master!” ‘No, no, no. Please, Force, don’t do this. Don’t take him from me.’_  
_“It…it’s too late.”_  
_“No!” ‘Please! Don’t leave me!’_  
_“Obi-Wan, promise…promise me you will train the boy.”_  
_“Yes, Master.” ‘Anything. Anything, just please, I love you, please-‘_  
_A calloused hand reaches up, brushes shakily down Obi-Wan’s damp cheek, and Obi-Wan leans into the touch, as if that will help anchor the dying man in his arms to the living world._  
_“He…is the Chosen One…he will bring balance.”_  
  
Qui-Gon’s last words had been for the boy, had been for Anakin. Anakin, whom Obi-Wan loves like a brother, who’s companionship he cherishes. He could never begrudge his former padawan for the words of a dying man, but still…  
  
But still, even now, Obi-Wan did not seem to warrant even the barest glance in Qui-Gon’s eyes, let alone a kind word. He squeezes his own eyes close, hands clenching into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palms.  
  
‘Even now, do I still disappoint you, Qui-Gon?’  
  
He leaves the thought hanging, unspoken, in the air, and returns to his spot across the fire from Ahsoka. Outside the storm still rages. They are in for a long night, this Obi-Wan knows, as he folds his legs under him, eyes of the dancing flames. He will wake Ahsoka soon for her turn at watch. Or perhaps not. He does not think sleep will come easily to him tonight. For the time being, he lets the girl sleep and allows the silence to wrap around him as he moves closer to the fire, trying to get warm.


End file.
